


Take a Cha-Cha-Cha-Chance

by maaaaa



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maaaaa/pseuds/maaaaa
Summary: Written for Castalie's birthday in May 2008. In addition to a spanking for Blair...no surprise there...she also wanted a little exhibitionism. Who am I to refuse?
Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Kudos: 15





	Take a Cha-Cha-Cha-Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Castalie's birthday in May 2008. In addition to a spanking for Blair...no surprise there...she also wanted a little exhibitionism. Who am I to refuse?

Jim entered the club and walked to the reception area. He took a moment to breathe deeply, reeling in the sights and sounds around him. He didn’t fully realize how much he’d missed coming here until just now.

He was dressed for clubbing, as Mac had requested, so as not to stick out as a cop. It had taken a little doing, to dredge up the look he’d perfected when he’d worked Vice…not the refugee from the Village People look he’d often sported when undercover on the docks or a seedier part of Cascade, but this look.

He’d spent a lot of time at this club during his time in Vice and for a while after; pretty much right up until he transferred to Major Crimes and he’d needed to keep a low profile. It was a discreet, clean, safe club. Jim smiled as he let his senses roam a little further, to touch the scents of the playrooms and feel the vibes from the dungeon on the lower floor.

He and Blair had only been lovers for a few months now. And for all his seemingly wild and wacky ways, Blair came on as decidedly vanilla in his lovemaking. There was no way Jim was ready to chance botching their relationship by revealing his kinky side; at least not just yet. His appearance at the club tonight was strictly as a favor to an old friend.

Ted McAllen, the club’s proprietor, showed up a few minutes later, looking harried. But his demeanor quickly changed. He quirked his head and gave Jim an appreciative once-over as he held out a hand. As they shook he said, “Damn, Jim, you look good.”

Jim’s lips twitched and he chuckled under his breath, knowing the effect he was having, and feeling a bit surprised with himself for being self-conscious about it. He just shook his head and said, “Yeah, yeah.”

Mac led Jim into the interior of the club and down one of the side hallways. They stopped outside a closed door and Jim waited while Mac swiped the lock with a key card.

The room was small and softly lit. There was a row of five theater style chairs facing a wall that was floor to ceiling glass; one-way glass, allowing anyone on his side to see into the other side, like in an interrogation room at the station, only this was much higher quality. The other side of the glass wall was dark. Jim could’ve seen through to the other side if he thought he needed to, but there didn’t seem to be any point at the moment. He assumed Mac had chosen the room because it was sound proof and he’d wanted to talk privately.

Mac ushered him in and waved Jim to the middle seat and then took the chair next to him.

“I’m glad you came, Jim,” Mac said sincerely, his voice warm. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“What’s up?” Jim answered, getting right to the point. “You sounded, I don’t know, worried, anxious, on the phone.”

Mac fidgeted in his seat, appearing to Jim to be hesitant about whatever was going on.

A pager on Mac’s belt beeped at that moment and Jim could’ve sworn the guy breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced at it quickly and groaned softly. “I’m needed downstairs,” he explained with an apologetic shrug that didn’t carry over to his face. “I thought this might happen, so I’ve arranged for you not to be bored ‘til I get back” He directed Jim’s gaze to the glass wall by glancing that way himself. He patted Jim’s thigh and gave it a quick squeeze before standing. He dropped a key card on the chair’s broad arm. “Your card, still good. You know where everything is.”

Jim’s eyes traveled back and forth quickly between the wall and his friend, now acutely aware there was someone on the other side of the glass. “Mac, I don’t want, I mean, I’m with someone now,” he blurted out.

“I think you’ll like what you see,” Mac went on glibly, ignoring Jim’s remarks. “The club’s services are at your disposal.” He winked at Jim and then hastily left.

Flustered and confused, Jim got to his feet, ready to follow Mac out the door, grab him by the collar, and shake a better answer out of him.

But then the lights went up on the other side of the glass, diverting his attention. What he saw made him plop back down into his seat, slack-jawed, with a dumbfounded look on his face.

The man in the other room had his back to Jim, but there was no mistaking who it was. Not with that head of hair. Not with the scent Jim was now picking up. Not with the sound of a heartbeat he was intimately familiar with reverberating through the glass.

Blair’s hands were on top of his head, his fingers laced together, in a ‘freeze and put your hands on top of your head’ pose. He was wearing a light green satiny shirt and loose jeans that bagged at the seat and the knees and were frayed at the hems.

There was a bank of buttons built into one of the chair’s arms and Jim’s fingers fumbled for the intercom. But then Blair canted one hip, rocking his body with a subtle shiver, and Jim’s forefinger froze, poised above the button, and he decided instead to watch what Blair was going to do next and figure out the what the fuck part of this whole thing in a minute.

Blair thrust his canted hip out and back, and pivoted on the ball of one foot, turning around. He dragged his fingers through his hair, twirling strands around his fingers and tugging them, massaging his scalp and then his cheeks before letting his hands drop away. His shirt was unbuttoned and he slid his hands along the open edges, almost coyly, and then took hold of them and flapped the shirt open and closed rapidly a few times. When he stopped, he let one shoulder droop, and the shirt slid part way down his arm. He grasped the cuff to prevent it sliding further and then tiptoed his fingers along his lower torso and upper thigh until he found the shirttail and pulled it into his grasp, bunching the fabric in his fist, and then slowly pulled it up past the ridge of his hipbone. He laid his other hand flat on his chest and slowly moved it toward his navel. He looked in the general direction of the glass the entire time with unfocused indifference. His eyes were half-closed, and he had his lower lip drawn in under his teeth in a mock bite, clamping down enough to leave an indentation that Jim could clearly make out.

Jim ran his tongue across his lips, which suddenly seemed to have been sucked dry.

Blair’s hand reached his navel and Jim blinked a few times, noticing that Blair’s jeans hung very, very low and for a second he was mesmerized by the trail of hair that Blair’s forefinger traced downward. Then Blair’s finger and thumb popped the button and tugged at the zipper but didn’t pull it all the way down. He slid his hand into his jeans, palm flat, and hooked his thumb over the waistband, easing the material down and to one side just far enough to reveal a small patch of short, curly hair.

Jim slouched in his chair, now equal parts turned on and pissed off. His mind was racing, wondering what the hell Blair was doing here; doing this. He’d told Jim he was going to be at the uni tonight, at a lecture followed by a discussion group that was going to go pretty late, he’d said. Jim’s fingers slid toward the intercom button again; ready to punch it and then lay into Blair at the top of his lungs and scare the bejeezus out of him. And then he’d take advantage of the services that were at his disposal, you bet he would, by opening one of the hidden cabinets in the room to find a paddle and then…

Blair sashayed toward the glass. He looked right through it, totally focused now, and looked directly at Jim, which was impossible, but he was doing it. His eyes were alight and he had a grin on his face that made him look too young and too old and too cocky for his own good all at the same time. A grin he only ever showed Jim, used on Jim.

The realization that he’d been set up hit Jim like the clichéd ton of bricks. And before he was able to pull that idea apart and slap it back together Blair turned around again.

Blair hiked up his shirt with both hands, rolling the fabric in his fists, exposing the small of his back. He shimmied his butt and the jeans slipped just far enough to show the dimpled skin above his crack. One more shimmy and the jeans dropped lower, cupping the underside of Blair’s ass but advancing no further toward the floor despite the laws of gravity.

Before Jim had a chance to fully appreciate that view, Blair turned again. He’d transferred the grip on his shirt to one hand and was clutching the top of his jeans with the other, just barely holding them in place. The base of his cock protruded from the curly thatch of hair and Blair’s hand had hold of it along with his jeans but the rest of it was out of sight, straining against the still half opened fly.

Jim snatched the key card and held it so tightly the edges cut into his hand and then he snapped to, as he felt it bend, almost ready to break. He got to his feet and this time stayed there. He walked with flat-out determination to the door that connected his room to the room Blair was in, the room where he had no business being. He swiped the card and without a word to Blair, who yipped in surprise, hefted him up and onto his shoulder. Blair’s ass was still bare and since he was forced to let go of his pants when Jim slung him up and over, they slid half way down his legs, and bunched at the knees.

“Jim! Jim, man, I can explain,” Blair blurted as he used his hands to try to lever himself up, bucking against Jim’s hold.

Jim hefted him into a more secure hold, wrapping an arm tightly around his knees, and then swatted Blair’s ass, hard, with his free hand.

“Oh, you’ll be explaining all right,” said Jim, more to himself than to Blair, as he left the room. He slapped Blair’s ass again and was satisfied at the lack of response from Blair’s mouth and the interested response of Blair’s cock digging into his chest.

Jim walked down a hall, picked a room, swiped his card and entered. He smiled as he took a good look around, re-familiarizing himself with the setup of things quickly. He let the door click shut behind him and flipped a switch nearby that indicated from the outside that the room was in use.

He crossed the room and opened a closet. Blair wriggled and tried to duck his head under Jim’s arm to see around his torso, but another swat to his butt dissuaded him. The closet held a selection of paddles, crops, switches, canes and straps, along with other items Jim wasn’t interested in for now. He found an item that was new since his last visit. It was a wickedly interesting looking paddle, long enough and wide enough to cover both cheeks in one blow, made of sturdy yet flexible plastic with three slits in it running almost the entire length.

“Oh, yeah,” Jim said aloud. “This will do nicely.”

Blair found his voice again, “What? What will do nicely?”

Jim set him on his feet and his eyes rounded when he saw what Jim held in his hand. “You said I could explain!” he reasoned, his voice cracking. He snatched at the top of his pants and tried to pull them up, but Jim grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him toward the bed. Losing his hold, his pants slid to his ankles, and Blair had to hobble to keep up. It was a short trip that ended with Jim seated on the edge of the bed with Blair over his lap. Jim wrestled him into a tight hold and tapped the paddle lightly against his butt.

“So talk,” Jim said sternly as he walloped Blair once and let the paddle rest where it landed.

Words spilled out of Blair’s mouth faster than Jim thought possible, and that was saying something.

“I’ve known Mac for years. I used to work here. Not work here, work here, like you’re thinking right now, but just a regular job, you know? To help make ends meet. Sweeping floors, doing dishes, bussing tables, on the main floor only, Mac never let me into the rest of the club. I ran into him a couple of weeks ago and we got to talking and your name came up and I let on like I knew more than I did and so he spilled more than he realized then I talked him into setting this up because, man, I love our sex life, I do, I really really do, but, whoa you never seem to want to spice things up and that didn’t make sense after talking to Mac, so I took a chance and had him set this up.”

“You couldn’t’ve just asked me?” Jim interrupted gruffly; glad Blair couldn’t see the grin on his face.

“I thought this would be more fun?” Blair offered in an unsteady squeak.

“And are you having fun?” Jim asked him in a saccharine overloaded voice. He punctuated the question with six quick hard swats.

“Ow! No!” Blair hissed. He swung one arm up and behind and tried to shield his butt.

Jim took hold of Blair’s wrist and pinned it to the small of his back. He rubbed the paddle across Blair’s ass and then patted it a few times, making him squirm.

“That’s too bad,” Jim intoned in an affected mournful voice. “Because I’m having a great time.”

“Huh?” was all Blair managed to say before the paddle landed again, six more swats with just as much gusto and sting, but imparting an entirely different feel. “Ungh,” he moaned as his balls tightened and his cock hardened.

Jim leaned over, so his lips were close to Blair’s ear and his chest bumped Blair’s shoulder. “Want me to stop?” he whispered as he pressed the paddle against Blair’s pinked flesh.

Blair’s breath hitched and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. His dick shuddered and his ass quivered. “Hell no,” he whispered back.

The slits in the paddle left an interesting crisscross pattern on Blair’s butt as Jim spanked him, turning the skin from pink to red. When he tossed the paddle aside and started using his hand, alternately spanking and stroking, it was too much. Blair jerked on his lap as he came and Jim continued spanking him until he was spent.

Jim slid Blair off his lap and onto the bed. He stripped Blair and then got up and found what he needed to clean things up. Then he stripped down and crawled onto the bed next to Blair, who immediately snuggled up against him. Blair’s hand went for Jim’s cock but Jim stopped him, instead gently nudging Blair head toward his crotch. Blair squiggled around eagerly and as he sucked him off, Jim once again swatted his still hot ass until they both came.

A short while later the door buzzed. Jim reached for the bedside remote, careful not to disturb Blair, who was nestled against him, sound asleep. He hit a button and Mac’s voice came quietly through the speaker.

“Club service. Is there anything you require?”

Jim pressed the button that unlocked the door and Mac poked his head in.

He grinned sheepishly and then broadly as he took in the scene. “I see you found one of our newer toys,” he said approvingly as he nodded at the paddle on the bed. “It’s quite the popular little number. Very, um, effective.”

Jim picked up the paddle and pointed it at Mac. “I ought to use this on you.”

“Promises, promises,” Mac quipped. Then he jerked his chin at Blair. “I take it he’s glad he took the chance?”

“Oh yeah,” Jim breathed. He stroked Blair’s ass through the sheet and snorted as Blair pushed back. “Me too,” he added as he kissed the top of his head.

“Then I take it you’ll be back sir?” Mac asked in a stiff, businesslike voice, though the effect was totally ineffectual what with the silly grin on his face.

“Oh yeah,” Jim answered confidently as he mentally took inventory of everything the club offered. “Oh yeah.”


End file.
